Humpday Hookup Horror Stories: Screamers


If you’ve got a hookup horror story, send it in using our submission form, and be sure to select “Column.” All stories will be made anonymous. Try to keep it under 500 words. Thou shalt not judge lest ye be judged.

“Leigh” from Ft. Lauderdale, Fla.

My roommate and I went out for drinks after work one night and she ended up picking up a guy at the bar. A couple hours later, the three of us went back to our apartment and had a few more drinks. The two of them disappeared into her bedroom while I was in the bathroom, so I decided to just go to bed–my fun for the night was over. I needed to go to bed, anyway. I was dead tired and needed a good night’s sleep.

I was asleep for a couple hours, but was suddenly woken up by my roommate’s headboard banging against my wall. I sent her a text to let her know about the situation and they cooperated. I even heard them move the bed away from the wall. She was a good roommate. I started drifting off to sleep again, but another noise jolted me from my much needed rest–screaming. Not screaming from pleasure; this guy was legitimately shouting. It sounded like he was in some sort of pain, and since I am a registered nurse, I leapt into action.

I burst through the door expecting to see some sort of disgusting sex injury, but nope. It was much worse. My roommate was dripping candle wax on his back, and she had her hand what had to be at least fist-deep up this guy’s ass. He was wailing like a wounded bear when I arrived on the scene. She pulled her hand out of his crack and just started laughing. I was mortified. The guy, who hadn’t seen me come in–or just decided not to acknowledge my presence–asked her why she stopped. She shooed me away after I asked them to please keep it down.

I slept on the couch that night.

Boarded In
“Mike” from Dallas, Texas

This comes from back in my fraternity days. I had brought home a shacker and let her spend the night, because it was the middle of winter. My fraternity brothers had a tradition of “boarding” guys into their beds. Our beds (called “shacks”) were really just glorified bunk beds made out of 4x4s and plywood. We had several leftover sheets of plywood in the basement in case any of the top bunks ever broke. At random, my drunken brothers would grab a sheet of plywood, screw it into the support beams, and board a passed out person into his bunk. It was usually up to the person in the bed to smash his way through the plywood, thus freeing himself from his temporary incarceration. It often ended with the victim pissing into an empty water bottle or container that was in his bed and then going back to sleep in the hopes that some good samaritan would bail him out. That night, they decided it would be great if they boarded my shacker and me.

I woke up in pitch darkness and noticed it was a little stuffy. I immediately knew I was in trouble. I had to figure a way to get out before the shacker woke up. Sure enough, the banging on the plywood woke her up after a few futile attempts at escape. “What is that?” she asked. I told her it was nothing and that she should go back to sleep, but that didn’t go over very well. “Oh, my God. Where are we?” she asked as she started hyperventilating.

I had no idea what time it was or if anyone could hear our screams. She was a wreck, crying at the other end of my bed. I turned on the lamp next to my bed to let her know that we were not buried alive and were in the safe confines of my bed, but it didn’t help much. I looked for my phone so I could call my best friend in the house, but it was in my pants, and my pants were on the floor, outside of my cage. Her phone was out there, too.

Thankfully, a pledge came by and unscrewed the board just a few minutes later. It seemed like we were in there forever, but I guess we’ll never really know. Without saying a word to me, the girl grabbed her stuff and ran off to her sorority house and out of my life.

I never found out who did it.

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